Review Summary: Dan Auerbach deserves every ounce of credit for saving Lana del Rey from her own theatrics.
Lana Del Rey’s debut record amounted to a shameful waste of resources. Blighted by bland arrangements and tedious clichés, Born to Die felt like a classic case of rushing the product to meet the demand. Producers Emile Haynie, Patrick Berger, et al. allowed Lana to birth an unorganized mess far too vapid to attempt such ambitious themes. Her delicate alto and fragile timbre felt buried beneath the drab production job and insipid storytelling. The bearable moments of Born to Die might have made for an impressive EP, but taken as a whole, the record lurched lifelessly to its completion, saying much but accomplishing little.
With help from producer and Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach, Lana crafts an album far more interesting and consistent than her previous efforts. Auerbach furnishes a clear, consistent 1960s era motif and augments it with psychedelic undertones, west coast aesthetics, and a dash of G-funk, yielding a sleek, uniquely-Californian take on Lana's trademark crooning. Her trademark vocal fragility and timbre remain largely intact, while her subtle vibrato sells her story’s complex emotional shading of domestic violence and infidelity, highlighted on the title track and "Old Money." She utilizes silence more effectively (see: "Pretty When You Cry"). Most importantly, her lyrics largely remain motif-centric. Gone are the many instances of rhyming for rhyme's’ sake that plagued her debut. Rather, Lana feels out the room of each track, delivering unpredictable chord arrangements with fluctuating metered delivery and lyrics which augment, not detract, from the story.
Her reserved approach yields dividends alongside Auerbach’s complimentary selection of tracks. He delivers a diverse and cohesive palette of styles bound by their common era, from the Zeppelinesque “Brooklyn Baby” to its psychedelic counterparts, “Cruel World” and "Shades of Cool." Lead single “West Coast” exemplifies Auerbach's positive influence on Lana's music, blending her Kennedy-era character with dream pop qualities and contemporary west coast G-funk. The anthemic waltz “Money, Power, Glory” matches its subdued lyrical intensity with Lana's tremendously tenuous vocal delivery. The track benefits from Auerbach’s blend of piano-driven choruses with background guitar string bends giving way to distorted tremolo picking. Even the bluegrass-infused “The Other Woman” soars, largely due to its adequate pacing and the fact that it’s the sole track to attempt such an imitation.
Even at its worst, Ultraviolence’s authenticity surpasses the best moments of its predecessor. Auerbach crafts Lana Del Rey a record that complements her strengths while reeling in her dramatics. His production strikes a harmonious blend between her theatrical '60s-era crooning and the other competing genres of that decade, delivering a novel and interesting tribute to such an entertaining era of public conscious. Though her lyrical examination of abuse and unfaithfulness fail to break new ground in the exploration of romantic topics in music, her vocal execution sounds contemporary and entirely believable. With Auerbach’s assistance, Ultraviolence surpasses expectations, conveying an intelligent take on an often trod sound. 3.5/5.
